


Crazy (Eights) About You

by osterac1999



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: (if you know me it isn't shocking at all), COUGH his fursona is a deer COUGH, Crazy Eights, Fluff, M/M, Sappy, big time rush - Freeform, jer is so sappy tbh, jer's crushing hard, michael is concerned sometimes and like mood dude, oh he gets hurt at a certain point but it isn't anything serious, they're playing cards a shocker!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 09:41:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12528460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/osterac1999/pseuds/osterac1999
Summary: The two faced each other, glaring into each other’s eyes. In each of their hands, they held seven cards. At this point, they were prepared to kill each other to win. There was never any mercy shown in a game like this.





	Crazy (Eights) About You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pipandthots](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pipandthots/gifts).



> This is a birthday gift for you my friend jer!!!! I love you babe!!!!! <3 <3
> 
> Tbh I shouldn't post a fic after only five minutes of waking up but fuck it I need to post this before his birthday ends

The two faced each other, glaring into each other’s eyes. In each of their hands, they held seven cards. At this point, they were prepared to kill each other to win. There was never any mercy shown in a game like this.

 

“I’m disappointed.” Jeremy began, carefully setting his cards on the ground. He wasn’t going to let Michael win another one of their game nights. “You couldn’t even get the real deal.” He leaned back on his hands, and raised his eyebrow at Michael.

 

“I don’t have Uno cards, Jer, fucking sue me!” He threw up his hands. Jeremy laughed and poked him with his foot.

 

“Nah, it’s fine. I’ll take discount Uno any day. As long as I get to play games with you I’m happy, bro.” He clasped his hands together and fluttered his eyelashes at Michael, who leaned over the deck of cards to shove him lightly. 

 

“Fuck off, dude.” He sat back down. “Don’t act all lovey-dovey when you _know_ we’re gonna kill each other in about twenty seconds.”

 

Jeremy scoffed. “With my first move, it’ll be _five_ max.” He picked his cards back up and leafed through them a bit. “Get ready.”

 

Michael looked down at his own cards and raised an eyebrow. “I think you should take your own advice.”

 

Neither of them moved for a second and Jeremy sighed. “ _Dude_ , I dealt, you have to-”

 

Michael shushed him. “I’m _planning_ , hold your fucking horses.” He glanced between the innocent seven of clubs and his own hand. “Are we still playing aces as plus two’s?” He asked, fingering the last card on the right side.

 

His heart dropped. “I- yes?” He answered, though it sounded more like a question.

 

Michael sent Jeremy a wicked grin. _”Good.”_ He pulled out the card- an ace of clubs- and smacked it on top of the seven. He motioned for him to pick up the two cards, the smile on his face steadily growing. He threw down another ace, and Jeremy let out a strangled cry.

 

“Dude, no! What the _fuck_.” That was already _half_ the aces. He swiped the cards up angrily and sat down, a jerky movement indicating Michael to continue his turn.

 

“Don’t _worry_ ,” he reassured. “I don’t have another ace to use. _Yet._ ” Jeremy prayed to the Crazy Eights gods that Michael didn’t have any more aces. He gently put down a four of spades.

 

“Oh wow. Thanks, Michael. I really appreciate you sparing my ass for five seconds.” He sarcastically thanked him. Michael sent him a wink and he felt his ears flush a bit.

 

“Anytime, babe.” He felt his face get a bit redder, but tried to play it off as anger. Michael seemed to buy it. “Aw, don’t be mad! You haven’t even taken your turn yet.”

 

“I don’t have shit, Michael! And _I_ know _you_ know, you cheater.” He put down the jack and groaned when Michael changed the suit again, this time to hearts. “Can you just stick with one suit? Please?”

 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Michael asked, not expecting an answer. And Jeremy wouldn’t give him one- out loud, at least.

 

_Well, anything’s fun with you._ He thought, quickly playing another card. He cringed internally at how cheesy that sounded. Ugh. Why was he always like this around Michael? Aside from the blatantly obvious crush. He just… really loved Michael. _Wow, Jeremy, that definitely wasn’t the gayest thing you could think._ He thought to himself sarcastically.

 

Instead, he placed an eight. “Clubs.”

 

“You are _such_ a hypocrite. ‘Stop changing the suit’ my _ass_.” Jeremy stuck his tongue out at him and waited as he picked up a card, a sour expression on his face. “Fuck you and your stupid clubs.”

 

“Aw, you know you love me.” He teased despite how fast his heart was beating.

 

Michael’s fake angry expression melted into something softer. “Well, yeah, of course I do.” Jeremy’s stomach dropped and he was frozen. “You’re my best friend!” Michael added, laughing. Jeremy gave him an extremely fake (in his opinion) laugh in return.

 

“Duh.” He said weakly. God, he was in so deep here.

 

The rest of the game passed by with a large amount of incidents. Like Jeremy nearly throwing the side table at Michael as he changed the suit last minute with an eight, or Michael successfully laying down _all four_ aces in succession after they reshuffled the deck. One of Jeremy’s prouder moments was him getting lucky and having a king of a different suit so Michael couldn’t win with his hearts. If he put a bit more thought into the symbolism staring him in the face, he’d say hearts suited Michael very well.

 

“What the fuck!” Jeremy yelled, throwing his stack of cards down. _”What the fuck!”_

 

Michael leaned back and shot him a sly smile. “I’m just good at the game, Jer.”

 

“ _Good?_ That’s called cheating, you bitch.” He accused, jabbing a finger at him.

 

He gasped in shock, betrayal washing over his face. “I can’t believe this. My own _best friend_ calling me a _cheater_.” He sat up and crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s called _strategy_.”

 

“It’s a game of _luck_! You can’t fucking strategize!” He kicked the pile and it fell over, sprawling itself over the floor. “I’m getting some popcorn.” He grumbled, climbing to his feet and walking toward the stairs.

 

Now, he’d like to say he made it up the stairs unscathed, as he usually did. That his feet cooperated with him as per usual. That he didn’t forget about the crack on the floor _right in front of the stairs_. He would _love_ to say that, but he wasn’t a liar.

 

He walked up to the stairs and turned his head back toward Michael to ask if he wanted anything. He- stupidly- kept moving forward. His first foot made it onto the step just fine, but when he tried to move the other one, his toes got stuck on the crack in the concrete. 

 

A sharp inhale and a quiet _fuck_ were the only things he could get out before he crashed down onto the stairs. 

 

He laid there for a moment, completely dumbfounded by how _ridiculous_ this was. Everything was quiet for a few seconds before he heard Michael cackling behind him. He lifted himself up, wincing at how sore his wrist _already_ was, and glared behind him.

 

Michael was hunched over, clutching his stomach. He was shaking, trying to muffle his laughter with his free hand. A few tears escaped the corner of his eyes along with a few gasps.

 

“J-Jer, are you oh-okay?” He staggered over and offered a hand to him. His laughter became some hybrid of gasping and laughing- wheezing was probably the most accurate descriptor for it.

 

Jeremy stared for a few moments, completely enthralled by him. He looked so carefree and _happy_. And, well, it wasn’t like he had never seen Michael like this before- it was just that Jeremy wanted to see him happy _all the time_. Was that really so much to ask for?

 

He must’ve been staring for too long because Michael tapped on his face. “Dude, are you okay? Did you fall too hard?” He asked, concernedly.

 

“Uh- no! I’m fine-” He tried to respond, but the second he moved to get up, he fell back with a hiss. “Well, _I’m_ fine, but my wrist isn’t.” He amended.

 

“I’ll go get an ice pack or something.” He made his way up the stairs, avoiding the crack. Jeremy watched him walk away while embarrassment flooded him. He was _such_ a fuckup. 

 

He returned a few moments later, helping Jeremy get up without putting any pressure on his wrist. The ice pack was wrapped in a washcloth to keep it from completely freezing Jeremy’s skin. Michael tenderly wrapped it around his wrist, gently grabbing Jeremy’s other hand to keep it in place.

 

“You always manage to trip there. This is definitely the worst fall, though.” Michael’s fingers lingered on his hand. When he pulled away, Jeremy immediately missed the warmth of them. Especially considering how cold both of his hands were going to get in the next few minutes. Though, that would’ve just been an excuse.

 

“I’m like a drunk deer.” Jeremy muttered quietly. He glanced up and saw the wicked smile on Michael’s face, and groaned. “No. No- don’t take that out of context.”

 

“I can’t believe-” Jeremy interrupted him.

 

“No! Don’t say some dumb shit like ‘wow, Jer, thanks for telling me your fursona!’ Because you _know_ that isn’t what I meant.” He kicked him in the ankle for good measure.

 

Michael kicked him back. “I’ll have you know, I’ve never said a single dumb thing in my _life_.”

 

“Oh, is that right?” He raised an eyebrow. “Well, if I _recall_ -”

 

His face dropped. “Wait-” 

 

“You’ve said that Big Time Rush was _the_ epitome of music. That they were _the_ best band to have ever _lived_.” 

 

“I was joking! Do you know what a joke is?” Michael tried to defend himself, but Jeremy wasn’t having it.

 

“First, dude, you were high as fuck so there’s no way you’d come up with a joke like that.” He ignored the quiet _hey_. “Second, I’ve seen your music and I know you have all their albums.”

 

Michael sputtered. “Well, I- you- _fuck you_ , dude.” He slumped into the wall.

 

“Oh, does the glorious and fantastic Michael Mell not have a comeback?” He teased.

 

Michael grumbled something that sounded vaguely threatening (as if he could be threatening, though). Instead of elaborating on that, he perked up and asked, “since your wrist is fucked, do you wanna just chill and watch a movie?”

 

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “Duh. Do you even have to ask?” He walked back over to the bean bags and motioned for Michael to join him. He briefly glanced back and saw a weird expression cross his face. Well- it wasn’t _weird_ , per se, but it was one he had never really seen or noticed before. It looked almost… conflicted. Like he was debating something with himself. Whatever it was, he seemed to settle it.

 

“I’m gonna grab some popcorn and _not_ trip up the stairs. Don’t try to miss me too much.” Jeremy had turned back toward the TV, but he knew he was being shot finger guns.

 

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t burn the popcorn or I’m disowning you!” He yelled back, pleased to hear a chuckle in response.

 

He glanced toward the overturned pile of cards and smiled. He was glad he had something like this- _someone_ like this in his life. And even if Michael didn’t understand his feelings fully, it was fine. He just wanted him to be happy. And judging by today, and every other day they had spent together, he was doing a pretty bang up job.

 

No matter what, he’d make Michael happy. Even if that involved letting him go eventually. Though, if he had any choice in the matter, he’d _love_ a complete different route. Possibly filled with movie dates and shitty commentary- which wasn’t all that different from now. 

 

He could be happy with just this.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!!! I hope you liked the sappy garbage (especially you jer :p) <3 <3
> 
> If you wanna yell at me or like talk or something, my tumblr is @cuddlehoe


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